


Crackers

by omphale23



Category: due South
Genre: Community: ds_snippets, M/M, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-14
Updated: 2010-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-08 00:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omphale23/pseuds/omphale23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he pries his eyes open, Fraser's standing there looking worried and earnest and healthy.</p><p>Ray hates him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crackers

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to [](http://slidellra.livejournal.com/profile)[**slidellra**](http://slidellra.livejournal.com/) for betaing the output of my fevered brain.

_status quo_

Ray's drifting back into this weird dream about being a tree person when somebody reaches under the blankets to touch his forehead. He smacks at the hand, but doesn't manage to protest with more than a half-hearted "nnrgh."

When he pries his eyes open, Fraser's standing there looking worried and earnest and healthy.

Ray hates him.

The bed's spinning and so's the ceiling and there's a piece of paper. Ray thinks it might be the list he made yesterday, back when he could still use a pen. He'd tried to add more stuff this morning, but his fingers wouldn't work.

Fraser looks puzzled. "I'm not sure I understand. You'd like to have poultry and…your spelling really is idiosyncratic."

Ray groans and rolls over, trying to ignore all that irritating goodwill. "Chicken Biskit. Spelled right. Crackers."

Fraser doesn't leave. "I see. And I'll be able to find these at the grocery?"

Ray grunts in agreement. Or tries to. It comes out more of a wheeze.

Fraser's still reading the list. Ray can feel a question coming. He pulls the covers up again, but it doesn't work. "And you're certain this is all you want? Some fresh fruit, perhaps?"

The guy acts like he's never been sick. It's no excuse for not following the list. The list is important. It's a good list. "The list, Fraser. I'm sick. I eat that. Only that. Fruit could kill me. You want to kill me?"

That last part was more whiny than he meant, but he's dying of whatever the hell he caught from that lake water. He should get something. A free pass. A nap. Some crackers.

Fraser clears his throat. "Of course not. I'll just go buy these, and be back as soon as I…"

Ray doesn't hear the rest. He's already asleep.

 

_glitter_

It's obvious from the uneven snores that Ray is no longer available to discuss his esoteric dietary requirements. Fraser assumes it can't be difficult to find four items.

An hour later, he's lost some of his original confidence. Tracking a caribou across the tundra is child's play compared to following Ray's fever-addled shopping instructions.

Ginger ale is available, although he would have preferred a drink with some nutritional content. It takes two requests to obtain orange jello tubs, a substance only slightly less disturbing than the oatmeal crème pies.

The latter appear to contain neither oatmeal nor any dairy product. They are not shaped like pies.

Only one item remains. If Ray's earlier mumbling is to be believed, it's some sort of snack item, although he's wary of the improbable name. Perhaps Ray would be satisfied with—but the image of Ray's eyes, glittering and confused, stops Fraser on the way to the register.

Another search locates a garish blue box, half-hidden behind spray cheese cans. It looks no more appealing than the name suggests. The company is a sponsor of NASCAR.

Fraser tries not to be dismayed at the final contents of his shopping basket. He settles for paying quickly and leaves with a large paper bag.

He unpacks everything at home, arranging the containers on the counter and reading the ingredients again. The cracker tastes like—nothing he's ever tasted before. Certainly not chicken. He spits the rest of it out, rinsing his mouth with a glass of water.

Perhaps the flavor is less nauseating when combined with a beverage.

He finds that it isn't.

He remains unconvinced, but warms a cup of soda and leaves it near the bed. Ray stirs, blinking at him and at the mug and plate of crackers.

Ray smiles, and Fraser feels better.


End file.
